


Oh Doctor, My Doctor

by darlingdisastrous



Category: Flatliners (1990)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Doctor Kink, Doctor/Patient, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fingering, Medical Kink, Playing Doctor, Power Imbalance, Roleplay, Seduction, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29610432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingdisastrous/pseuds/darlingdisastrous
Relationships: Nelson Wright/Reader, Nelson Wright/You
Kudos: 3





	Oh Doctor, My Doctor

Growing up, you always dreaded going to the doctor. Being a sick kid, hating doctors appointments comes with the territory. The scent of bleach could throw you into a full-blown panic attack; and though you were used to the sensation of needles, it didn’t mean they didn’t hurt.

But Dr. Wright had a way of making all that go away. He was a great doctor. Charming. Attentive. It didn’t hurt that he was handsome, or that he had the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. Was it wrong to have a crush on your doctor ... well, there weren’t any laws against it. Besides, your attraction wasn’t hurting anyone, except yourself in your unrealistic fantasies.

The door opened and in strut the man, white lab coat trailing behind him like a cape. He smiled at you as he approached.

“How are we doing today, Miss L/N?” Dr. Wright stalked up to where you sat, patting your knee before grabbing a pair of gloves from a box.

You watch him flex his fingers, securing the glove with a tight _snap_. They fit his hand well, like a second skin. _God_ , what you’d give to have him touch you again.

He was always like that during these visits. A pinch here, a caress there. Those brief touches are what keep your fantasies alive. They fuel your sinful thoughts, things you’ll feel ashamed of while you’re here, but relish in once you’re alone. 

“Miss L/N?”

You jump, realizing your error. “I’m okay.”

“Just okay?” Dr. Wright huffs in faux-agitation. “And here I thought I was making a quality of life difference.”

“You are! It’s just ... one of those days, you know?” You offer a weak smile.

He makes a face, as if to say _yeah I know._ He finishes writing and lays the clipboard off to the side. As he stretches, you bit your lip, eyes trailing down over his stomach to his pants: a thick, black leather belt looped through his corduroy pants. You wondered how the belt would feel wrapped around your neck.

Dr. Wright closes the distance between you, pressing his stethoscope to your chest. You sit up a little straighter. When he was close like this, it’s hard to think. He’s wearing that cologne you like. You bite back a smile, focusing on the area just above his head.

“Your heart’s beating very fast,” he notes. “Something wrong? Are you nervous?”

You squeeze the edge of the bench. “No, sir.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be.” He grins, eyes flitting between yours and your chest. “It’s just me. Deep breath.” You inhale deeply and he moves the stethoscope. “And release ... Another deep breath ... Good. Very good.”

And, just like that, he’s gone. It’s like someone ripped away your warm blanket while you were sleeping. Inwardly, you pout, but you suppose this is for the best. You wouldn’t’ve heard a single thing he said if he stayed that close to you.

Dr. Wright leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Tell me: any new symptoms?”

There weren’t any. Ever since you started seeing the man, you’d been doing much better. It was true, what you said before about him making quality of life better. The only thing that was ‘new’ and ‘unmanageable’ was your ranging lust for the man.

And that’s when it hit you. He was a doctor, right? He wasn’t allowed to judge. It was his job to listen, unbiased, and help make you feel better. You’ve been having an awfully tough time, lately. It’s hard to focus when the man occupies your thoughts twenty-four/seven.

So, you nod. As soon as you do, you regret it. Shit—it’s not like you couldn’t lie your way out of it. You could just BS some random symptom or play up one of your other ones—you didn’t need to make an utter fool of yourself in front of the hottest man alive.

But ... you wanted to see how it played out. How far could you go with _this_ —whatever this was.

You fold your hands in your lap, keeping your eyes downcast and expression demure. You nod again, confidently.

“Oh?” He shifted his weight, watching you curiously. “Can you describe it for me?”

“I’ll try.” Inhaling deeply, you attempt to calm your nerves. “Um .. lately, I’ve been getting really hot. Well, not _hot_ , but _warm_. It happens at the most random times, I don’t get it. It’s not like a hot flash or anything, it’s just ... heat.”

“Have you found a common trigger for this—” he waves his hand around in a vague gesture, “—heat?”

Shrugging, you say, “There are ... there are two places where it happens frequently. One is, um, at night. Or in the morning, after I’ve just woken up from sleeping. It doesn’t happen every night, but it’s frequent enough that I’ve noticed a pattern. I wake up from these dreams and I’m all hot and there’s this strange pulling sensation in my gut.” You lay your hand over your lower abdomen unconsciously. “It’s almost tingly and very uncomfortable. I get short of breath and agitated.”

Dr. Wright hums, absorbing all the new information. He takes off his glasses and taps them against his lips, deep in concentration. Then, he puts them back on. “Do you mind?”

He’s reaching before you give your answer, sliding his big hand underneath yours to touch your pelvis. He splays his fingers across the surface, pressing lightly against your abdomen, feeling for anything abnormal.

You held your breath the whole time, your heart skipping a beat. He was so close, you could count each individual eyelash.

Whether he found anything or not, he didn’t say. All he did was stroke your stomach, pressing down on certain areas, going lower and lower until the only unexplored area was your crotch. As he felt you, he asks, “Where is the second location you experience this ... _feeling_?”

His fingers skim the seam of your jeans and you bite your inner cheek.

“Here,” you admit.

“Here?” He touches the seam again, this time intentionally. “I’m this particular spot or my office?”

“The office.”

“I see.” Dr. Wright removed his hand, but didn’t put much distance between the two of you this time. Deep in thought, he taps his finger against his lips. “These dreams you’re waking up from, what are they? Nightmares? Good dreams?”

“Good dreams.”

“Tell me, are there any other symptoms you haven’t mentioned? Sensitivity in certain areas in the body? Excessive vaginal discharge or wetness?”

If you weren’t blushing before you were now. Could he read you that well? It’s like he lived inside your brain! Perhaps it was written plainly across your forehead in bright red letters: _whore 4 u_.

You pick at your nails and murmur, “Yes.”

“I think I know what we’re dealing with.”

“Wait—really?”

“Really. I’m afraid it’s a severe case of hysteria. One of the worst I’ve ever seen.”

You gasp, echoing his words. _Hysteria_. “What ... What does this mean? What’s going to happen to me?”

“Don’t worry, Miss L/N, even the most extreme strand of hysteria is easily treatable. It may take more doses, but the effect will be the same.” He took off his glasses, sitting them off to the side. “But, of course, like any treatment I will need your explicit permission. You can administer it to yourself. I’ll do it for you today, purely for demonstration purposes, you understand?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Dr. Wright shed his lab coat and began rolling up his sleeves. “Like I said, it’s a simple procedure, but I will need you to take off your pants. You can leave on your underwear if you’d like, but it will be easier on my part if you remove those, too.”

“Yes, sir.”

The instructions did seem strange but who were you to question a medical professional. He knew that he was doing. You stripped your bottom half bare, even your panties since he said they’d need to go, then sat back down on the hard metal bed. Dr. Wright guided you to lay back.

“Good,” he murmured. “Very good. I’m going to have you prop your legs up for me like this. Very good. And spread them ... You follow directions quite well, Miss L/N.”

Your face heats up. “Anything to make this easier on you, doctor.”

Dr. Wright chuckles. He rubs his hands over your bare thighs, the rubber smooth against your skin. “I’m going to begin administering treatment. Please, try not to tense up ... relax ... It will be over quickly.”

A single, solitary digit traced your lower lips. You gasp. Even though he warned you, you hadn’t expected it. Your thighs clenched.

“Remember what I said. Just relax. Can you do that for me, Miss L/N.”

His finger nudged your little bundle of nerves. You have to bite your tongue to keep from crying out. You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you nod your head.

“Good girl.” Dr. Wright spread your lips apart, exposing your insides to him. He hums. “Just as I thought. Wet.” He toyed with your nub excruciatingly slow. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he wanted you to squirm. “A mixture of penetration and clitoris stimulation should do the trick.”

A single finger slipped inside. You keen, gripping the edge of your hospital bed for dear life. He worked the digit inside of you carefully, going deeper and deeper until his palm laid flat against your mound. He left no surface untouched, groping your spongey walls, finding every sweet spot. The movement of his hand rubbed your clit deliciously and your eyes rolled back.

“Very good.” Dr. Wright pulls back enough to add a second finger. “Tell me, Miss L/N, how are you feeling? Verbalize it as best you can.”

“It’s getting—ngh—it’s getting hotter!” You rock your hips against him, urging him deeper inside. “The feeling ... ah ... the feel’s getting more intense ... _shit_ , doctor, I don’t think I can last!”

“Don’t fight it.” He worked his fingers faster, alternating between scissoring and curling them inside of you. “Let yourself get lost in the feeling. Let it grow. Cum for me.”

His words made you quiver. You could no longer keep still, arching off against the bed to feel more. You brought your hand to your mouth, stifling your moans. Dr. Wright squeezed your hip, urging you to open up more. The shift in position granted him deeper access. His fingers brushed against a spot inside of you and your vision went white.

Your mouth opened in a silent cry, legs quivering, as you arched off the bed. The coil in your gut snapped, sending you over the edge. A small, keening whine escaped your lips as you came down, legs sprawled out. Dr. Wright worked you through the orgasm, a slew of _good girl’_ s and _there you go_ ’s left his lips.

Dr. Wright finally withdrew his hand from inside you and scrutinized it in the light. Your slick coated his two fingers, glinting in the low light.

He frowned, “I was afraid of this.”

“What?” you ask, breathlessly. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s your hysteria.” Dr. Wright smacked your cunt. “It’s worse than I thought. Your pussy can’t be satisfied by my fingers alone. I’ll have to resort to alternative methods.”

He wastes no time discarding his gloves and aggressively tearing at his belt. You lick your lips, watching the scene hungrily. Dr. Wright smacks your inner thigh.

“Sit up. Against the edge.” You maneuver yourself into the position he required and he grabbed your leg, wrapping it around his waist. “We’re going to make you all better again. Yeah? We’re going to curb your pussy’s cravings for cock.”

That was all the warning he gave before pushing inside. The suddenness of it was uncomfortable but the burn only added to your pleasure.

You dig your heels into his lower back, spurring him on. His cock was _thick_ , stretching your walls deliciously. He snuck his hand between your bodies, toying with your sensitive clit.

“Tell me,” he grunts. “Tell me about your dreams.” He drills into you hard, erasing all coherent thought. You claw at his back, moaning incoherently. “There’s no need to be shy, Miss L/N. I’m inside of your fucking cunt—we can share secrets here.”

Wave after wave of pleasure crash over you. The sound of skin on skin slapping fills the hollow room. If anyone were to do much as press their ear against the door, they’d know.

That filled you with a sick sense of glee. What if someone did walk in to find the two of you? What would he do? Would he stop? Would he keep going, fucking you despite the audience?

He thrust hard, his cockhead kissing your cervix. “I asked you a question. Are you so horny you can’t think straight? Cant think about anything but my cock fucking you dumb?”

You moan. “I think if this.”

“This? Getting fucked?” he grunts. “Who do you imagine? Dr. Hurley?”

“No!”

Dr. Wright speeds up, his pace borderline brutal. “Dr. Manus?”

“ _No_!”

Your head falls back, mouth permanently ajar. It’s no use stifling your noises—you don’t care, anymore. Who cares if you’re found out. Neither of you will stop, not when it feels this good.

“Tell me who fucks you!” He grabs the back of your head, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “I need to know. It’s part of your treatment, understand? Tell me who you imagine filling this pussy?”

“You!”

The sound he makes is guttural and unashamedly pornographic. He rubs your clit harder, making you dizzy with pleasure.

“Say it again.”

“ _You_! Only you!” Tears collect on your eyelashes. You roll your hips against him, taking him as deep as you possibly could. “Fuck—! I think of you and me like this! I think if you bending me over your desk and using me for your own pleasure. I think of you taking me here, like this, loud enough for everyone to hear—to know who’s making me feel this good.”

“They’ll all know. They’ll all know by the end of this—that you’re a little slut for your doctor’s cock. That you need him to get off because you can’t do it any other way. They’ll know that you’re _mine_.”

Dr. Wright crushes his lips to yours. The kiss is sloppy, all tongue and teeth and zero coordination. When he pulls away for air, he doesn’t go far. Your lips remained connected, noses bumping against each other.

“I’m close,” you warn.

“Who’s fucking you?” He hikes your leg up higher. “Who does this pussy belong to? Tell me.”

“You!”

“Scream my name.”

The pleasure peaked. Your body clenched and you tossed your head back. “Nelson!”

He humped your cunt until he, too, was spent. The two of you sagged against one another, holding each other tightly. You bury your face in his neck, repeatedly kissing his pulse while he lovingly strokes your temple.

The cavernous hall is filled with your combined panting. You’re lucky campus security doesn’t make their rounds for another fifteen minutes or else they would’ve gotten quite the show (and, probably, kicked the two of you out).

Nelson kisses your forehand, leaning back to get a good look at your face. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you tell him. You wrap your arms around him again, nosing his jaw. “Tired.”

Breathlessly, he laughs. “I’ll get you cleaned up when we get back home. You did a good job.” Embracing you, he adds, “Always a good little patient for me.”

You untwine yourself from his grasp and smooth his shirt. It’s a lost cause, but you try anyway. “You know, one of these days you’re actually going to have to _study_ and not waste your time goofing off.”

He snorts. “Goofing off—I’m one of the top students, Y/N. Do you doubt my abilities?”

“Never.”

You share a grin and fix a couple of his buttons before fully letting go. His now flaccid cock slips out of you and he ticks himself back in his pants. A slow dribble of cum leaks down your thigh. Nelson snatches up your panties and wipes you clean.

“I wish all doctors appointments could be like this.” You stare at ceiling, deep in thought. “I wouldn’t dread the dentist so much.”

Nelson stopped, frowning. “Should I be worried?”

“It’s a joke, Nel.” You push your hair back. “Dr. Smith doesn’t know how to get it up. He’s, like, a hundred years old.”

This doesn’t lighten him up. He helps you put back on your bottoms. You’ll clean up more once you get back to the apartment. Maybe take a long bath together.

“So, this hysteria thing, can you get it more than once?”

“I’m afraid it’s chronic,” he explains. “You’ll have to be treated for it a few times a week.”

“Good thing I’ve got my doctor on call.”


End file.
